


dress shirts and obnoxious shades of blue

by hoerondales



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Agatha Wellbelove - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Baz Pitch - Freeform, Baz is a fancy designer, Fashion & Couture, M/M, POV Baz, Simon Snow - Freeform, Simon/Baz - Freeform, SnowBaz, aromantic agatha, asexual agatha, baz is even gayer than normal, baz is not a vampire but there are vampire jokes because why not, baz is ridiculously gay for simon, baz likes clothes, carry on, completely self indulgent, designer!baz, flatmate!agatha, if you are reading this please leave a comment!, model!simon, obnoxious, penelope bunce - Freeform, simon is beautiful as always, simon is flirty and awkward, this is meaningless, tyrannus basilton grimm pitch - Freeform, why does anyone read this, wingwoman!penelope
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-09 00:25:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10399536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoerondales/pseuds/hoerondales
Summary: baz isn't sure why he now works for the fashion industry, (and he isn't sure if he likes it) but if it means designing clothes for supermodel simon snow, then he's not complaining.





	1. heather

**Author's Note:**

> another self indulgent snowbaz drabble. i still don't know what to write in the notes, which is not an improvement. (there will be a chapter 2 (maybe 3?) once i figure out how to work ao3.
> 
> I HAVE NO BETA.
> 
> THIS WAS WRITTEN FAST AND IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.
> 
> ALL MY MISTAKES ARE MY OWN.
> 
> LOWERCASE USED FOR STYLISTIC PURPOSES.
> 
> have a nice day! ('ж')

when baz gets into the fashion industry, he is slightly overwhelmed by the sheer number of irrelevant colours he has to now know. he'd never realised how many obnoxious shades of purple there were up until this point, at one o'clock in the morning as he furiously scans the sheets in front of him, trying to tell the difference between raisin and grape (why are they all named after fruits? (more to the point, why did he choose textiles as a career?)).

if you were wondering why, exactly, he hadn't done this before - well you could probably blame baz's tendancy to procrastinate until the last possible second. ( _it's a finely honed ability,_ penelope would joke. (well it doesn't feel like a joke now, that's for sure.))

(his flatmate agatha is even less of a help, the law student out cold on the sofa after a questionable night out with said wingwoman penelope.)

after two more desperate hours of trying to cram the colour spectrum and the different methods of gathering pvc, baz finally slams shut his shitty laptop and forces himself to sleep.

 

\---

 

if it were possible, he would say that the next morning if even more of a traumatic experience. with agatha's persistent snide commentary in the background, baz (who is approximately twenty four minutes late for his first day) stumbles around the flat while yanking on a random pair of jeans (?) and a white dress shirt with a stain on the collar that looks _awfully_ like blood. (which agatha seems to find absolutely hilarious ( _oh god, you'd be a great vampire, basilton_!))

fortunately, her normal attitude is somewhat dampened down by a raging hangover, so she doesn't have energy to tease baz anymore than necessary as he barges out the door, down the stairs and into the street.

hailing a taxi is also an issue, and by the time he steps out (and pays the driver, of course) he is exactly fifty six minutes late and very aware how hard both penelope and agatha would laugh at him if he ends up fired on his first day.

after taking a deep breath (a few deep breaths, really) he strides through the sliding doors and is given an employee card from the receptionist, who glances at him with one perfectly waxed eyebrow raised. baz wonders absentmindedly if she can smell his fear. _maybe this was a bad idea_. a loud voice in his head chimes (which distinctly sounds like penelope).

shaking away the rude voice, he turns and is met by a small lady with a shock of bright purple hair. due to baz's worrying lack if sleep, his brain to mouth filter is somewhat damaged today, which explains why the words "cow purple."  are blurted unceremoniously before the colour drains from his face. curse his now extensive knowledge of different purples.

the lady (trixie, her name badge supplies helpfully) also raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow (are they all clones? he's sure he's heard that somewhere) before snorting and shoving a pile of folders roughly into baz's arms. "these are going to be your assignments for the next few weeks, starting with snow on the top." she then gave him a small smirk before saying; "and it's heather, for your information."

baz watched her strut away with his mouth hanging open.

(the receptionist laughed from behind the desk.)

 _well, at least you haven't been fired yet._ the voice of penelope mutters.

 _because that's any consolation._ he murmurs back, seemingly to himself, though obviously not in his head as the receptionist looks over before smirking.

yep, his day is going great so far.

 

\---

 

it takes another ten minutes to find his desk (cramped, smelly) before he has time to look at the folders. quite honestly, baz is dreading working with other people, as ridiculous as it sounds. he's so used to just making clothes for himself and penelope (not agatha though-- she wouldn't be seen dead in anything that wasn't designer) that working like this feels like being uprooted.

sighing quietly, he pulls open the first folder and gets to work. snow is slightly smaller than him, the measurements say, and the deadline is ten days for two beautiful dress shirts and a tie.

 _okay_. baz thinks. _i can do this_.

 

\---

 

"baz!" penelope shouts, "get off that infernal device!"

"if you're going to make a reference at least make a good one, bunce."

"you want references! you're a _worm_ , baz! a _great bloody worm_!"

baz huffs and switches off the machine, carefully snipping off the excess thread before whirling around to face penelope.

"honestly, i've always thought of myself more as de quincey. you know, rich, devilishly handsome-"

" _TYRANNUS BASILTON GRIMM PIT_ -"

"oh for one second could you two just be quiet? i'm trying to read here." agatha snaps from the sofa.

"penelope started it." baz whines childishly, grabbing the folder and dress shirts and striding to his room.

agatha; nose buried in the book, rolls her eyes. penelope huffs from the kitchen.

baz gives each of them a wide fake smile before shutting the door.

 

\---

 

work, it seems, is even more of a struggle. being new at the company, his boss is less lenient and stricter when it comes to projects and a week at this job has taught baz that mageret is not a woman to mess around with.

walking into her office, he notices a lean man with blonde hair sitting in the chair next to her. baz can't really see his downturned face from this angle, but he can see a liberal smattering of freckles above his eyebrows.

"please sit down, baz." mageret says.

his head snaps up and as quietly as he can he takes a seat on one of her uncomfortable chairs (he wonders if she bought uncomfortable chairs on purpose, to keep people from relaxing.) the man next to her looks up, and holy shit his eyes are so beautiful-

" _basilton_."

he flushes, raising his dark eyes to meet margeret's green ones. she raises one eyebrow. (what is it with eyebrow raising here?)

"as you've probably noticed already i have someone with me today. this is simon snow, and he'll be your model for the next week."

_wait, baz gets to design clothes for this gorgeous man? what angel has blessed him-_

"since you've been focusing on the dress shirts for the past few days, this afternoon we should be able to fit in a photoshoot which you are welcome to watch."

baz paled considerably.

margeret paused. "that is, assuming you've finished the shirts."

if baz didn't know any better, he would say that the man's mouth (simon (it still felt weird to give a name to a body he'd been making clothes for)) twitched a little at the corners. was he laughing at baz? probably. his one chance to hang out with a hot guy and he's pretty much ruined it.

she gave a long-suffering sigh before glancing at simon, who smiled brightly. " _fine_. you have until tomorrow morning to finish those shirts, baz."

"thank you margeret. i'll definitely have them done by tomorrow." he gushed, clasping his folder to his chest as his eyes are drawn to simon, who stared right back, dimples denting his freckled cheeks. if baz doesn't leave now he is going to have an aneurism due to simon snow's inhuman beauty.

 _pathetic_. subconscious penelope laughs. _well this is going to be hilarious_.


	2. azure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another chapter. this is kind of a filler, though not really. some actual interaction from simon and baz, which was cute. these two are so cute, it's almost suffocating.

baz regrets everything. especially agreeing to finish a dress shirt in 12 hours. after unpicking the ruined hem at least four times, he is despairing. penelope, on the other hand, seems to find his predicament absolutely hilarious.

"are you serious? on your first day at work you meet a hot guy and agree to some impossible task?"

(--followed by humiliating fits of laughter. baz doesn't have much dignity, but this is too far.)

agatha is much less demeaning.

"look on the bright side; at least you didn't fall over in front of him or make a fool of yourself."

(it isn't much better but it's something.)

after finishing the dress shirt at two o'clock in the morning, baz promptly passes out on the sofa.

 

\---

 

this time, he wakes early, which is a definite improvement. five hours of sleep isn't much, but he hopes that it'll be enough to get him through work. throwing on the least dirty clothes he can find, baz quickly leaves the apartment before agatha or penny realise he's awake.

thankfully, the taxi arrives at Watford Couture on time, so he sprints up the precarious stairs and rushes over to his desk.

 _great_ , he thinks to himself. _all i need to do now is upload these documents, and then--_

_simon snow is sitting at my desk._

_why is simon snow sitting at my desk?_

baz briefly wonders if he ever woke up at all this morning, or if this is just a dream.

 _maybe he's here to fire you_. penelope supplies helpfully.

dazedly shaking off the pessimistic voice, he carefully places his folders on the corner of the desk. simon looks up at him, giant blue eyes crinkling slightly at the edges as he half-grins at baz.

baz swallows down an irrelevant urge to touch simon snow's face.

"um- if you don't mind me asking, why are you at my desk?" he forces out, still focusing on simon's wide eyes. simon smiles again.  
if he keeps doing that baz is going to have a heart attack.

"margeret wants me to give you a tour, if you wouldn't mind."

baz chokes silently. spend time alone with this beautiful model? he silently wonders if he is too gay for this.

"um--"

"cool! lets go then!" simon jumps up and grabs baz's  
hand, pulling him away from the folder-laden desk.

 

\---

 

simon's eyes aren't really that blue. baz thinks distantly. in photos they always seem almost neon, but really the colour is a mix between a greyish azure and a blueish violet. baz decides prefers his natural eyes, not the fluorescent sky blue of magazine covers.

the very same eyes are looking up at him, crinkled at the corners as a smile upturns his pink lips.

 _stop staring at his mouth, basilton_. penelope mutters.

baz blushes and adverts his eyes.

simon, thankfully, seems blissfully unaware; pointing out various places in the office.

"...this is the canteen-- the food isn't that nice but they do great tea and scones--"

"i don't really like tea, or scones." baz blurts quietly before catching the look of horror on simon's flawless face. somehow that makes it even more comical.

"you don't like scones? are you even _human_? the tea i can forgive, but the scones? scones are the food of the gods, and no-one can tell me otherwise."

baz snorts. simon smirks back.

"...anyway, this is niall-- SAY HI NIALL! okay and this is where the models hang out sometimes, though you can hang out here too..."

 

\---

 

it is just after lunch when margeret finally tracks down baz.

"do i dare ask what happened to the dress shirt that you should have made, and all the paperwork for the photoshoot?" she says dryly. baz's eyes widen, and he scrambles around his desk before fishing out the folders and handing them over. the dress shirt, on the other hand, seems to be missing.

 _this is bad_. he thinks. _i do not want to lose this job._

"the shirt, baz?"

he looks up, eyes wide.

"i finished it, and i definitely brought it in, but i can't seem to find it, margeret." he mumbles, looking down and fingering the hem of his shirt.

she sighs a long-suffering sigh.

"go find snow. he might have taken it to try it on." she demands before striding off.

baz nods dazedly, then starts running around the offices looking for a certain blonde-haired blue (grey? (violet?))-eyed model.

eventually, baz finds him curled up on a sofa next to a tall guy with brown hair and a stoic face. he looks up as baz half-runs over, and grins.

"hey, pitch this is micah, by the way. he's one of the photographers that'll be in the shoot later today." he says cheerfully, gesturing at the guy beside him, who waves a hand at baz.

baz waves back, before turning to simon.

"um-- have you seen the dress shirt that i brought in today? margeret wants it and she thought that you might have it." he says.

simon shuffles, for the first time looking uncomfortable when baz notices when he's wearing.

"is that the shirt, simon?" he forces out, confused; "why are you wearing it now?"

"um..." simon mumbles, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

"busted." micah whispers.

the tips of simon's freckled ears are red and a faint flush dusts his cheeks.

"it's... comfortable?" he tries, looking up at baz with big, blue eyes. baz melts slightly at the sight. "i really like it?" he pouts. micah snorts, turning back to his camera.

baz is a weak man.

(flattery, it turns out, will get you anywhere when it comes to baz. (and having a beautiful pout, but we're just going to ignore that.))


End file.
